


A Plum a Day

by just_another_tinker



Series: Missed You [2]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Awkward Boners, Disaster Immortals, Fluff and Humor, Food Porn, Joe likes fruit, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani and Nicky | Nicolò di Genova Acting Like a Married Couple, M/M, Nicky likes Joe, Pining, Plums are a lethal weapon, Unresolved Sexual Tension, maybe? - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:41:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28564539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_another_tinker/pseuds/just_another_tinker
Summary: “I like plums,” Joe said, words garbled with a full mouth. “There’s not a lot that can beat a perfectly ripe plum.”“Is that so?” Nicky responded dryly, eyes still trained down his scope.An additional scene from "Missed You By a Few Minutes, But a Few Centuries" verse, in which Nicky first experiences Joe with plums.Alternatively, Joe eats a plum and Nicky pines.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: Missed You [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2092872
Comments: 17
Kudos: 256





	A Plum a Day

A long sigh permeated through the open room. Nicky rolled his eyes and bit down the urge to echo the sound in response. It was the fourth - _fifth maybe? -_ time that he’d heard the sign of discontentment, the intervals at which they came decreasing as the morning wore on. Barely an hour had passed since the last one; it was going to be a long day. 

Nicky adjusted minutely, shifting his weight in his chair, rolling his shoulders back slightly. Despite the early hour, the streets of Marrakesh were already vibrant with life. Tented stands were occupied by merchants selling their wares, the aisles starting to pack full with locals and tourists alike. The air was rich with the smells of produce and spices, and the sounds of music and excitable chatter. 

Usually, he’d find himself enjoying a scene such as this. Despite being more of a solitary creature, he quite liked getting himself lost in the crowd, drowning himself in whatever local culture was in the area. There was so much to see, to hear, to taste. It was always overwhelming, but he craved it all the same, if all to keep himself distracted and stay some of his darker thoughts. 

But this time, he found himself on edge. He always did, when on a job like this. A newfound tension that had been becoming a repeat offender in the past few years. A dreadful sort of worry that he hadn’t remembered feelings for centuries. Not worry for him of course, no, but for the coworkers he’d seemingly found himself attached to. 

_“You really didn’t have to come so soon,”_ Andy had told him, despite accepting his tight hug just as eagerly, when Nicky had met them just the day before. _“This is just the boring part.”_

 _Just because it would be boring, doesn’t mean that something won’t go wrong,_ he’d wanted to say back. Which is how he found himself here, leaning down the scope of his rifle as he swept over the market again. 

Andy and Booker wouldn’t be meeting with their new potential client for another hour or so, but Nicky wasn’t going to sit idle. The market was too exposed, and there were too many places for someone else to hide. A part of him wished he’d asked Andy to go meet with the client instead. His compatriots were a bit too _‘squishy’,_ for lack of a better term, and Nicky was more than determined to keep his new friends in one piece. 

_Despite how much I might want to throttle them,_ he thought, when rapid tapping snagged his attention. “Joe, you’re killing me.” 

“No, Nicky, it is you who are killing me.” Joe continued to tap his fingers against the back of his phone. 

Nicky rolled his eyes again. _Dramatic,_ he thought. “It is going to be a very long morning for both of us if you don’t start behaving.” 

Nicky swore the tapping got louder in response. “I think you mean it’s going to be a very long morning for _you.”_

Nicky scoffed, and looked over at his companion. Joe sat on the couch across the room from him, arms crossed and lips curled in a challenge. 

“Is that a threat?” Nicky asked. 

“A promise,” Joe replied, eyes glinting. “And I am nothing, if not a man of my word.” 

“Joe,” Nicky sighed. 

“We’ve been here for hours,” Joe moaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “Andy and Booker probably aren’t even up yet—”

“You didn’t have to come with me if you wanted to sleep in,” Nicky argued. 

“Andy said someone had to watch your six. And while I know that you’ll never admit it, you would definitely prefer to have me here,” Joe said smugly. 

“Oh, no, I’ll happily admit it,” Nicky laughed, looking back down his sight. “But given the only other option was Booker, I’m not so sure that gaining my preference is as much of an achievement as you would like to think.” 

A pillow smacked him in the back of the head. “Don’t be rude,” Joe pouted. 

“Then stop making it so easy for me to be.” 

Another sigh. Nicky counted it as a win. “I’m hungry,” Joe whined. 

“First you were bored, and now you’re hungry.” 

“Both of which are your fault!” Joe cried. Nicky’s shoulders shook with silent laughter. 

“You knew we were going to be here all morning. You should have packed some snacks.”

Nicky could feel the heat from Joe’s stare on his neck. “Not all of us are blessed with Mary Poppins pants, Nicky. I didn’t have room for snacks.” 

“Shame.” 

Another pillow came flying at him. “How many pillows do you have over there?” Nicky continued. 

“More than you think.” 

Nicky chuckled again. “Joe, if you’re really hungry, I have some—”

“Oh, no,” Joe interrupted. “I don’t want your stale nuts.” 

“They’re not stale, Joe—”

“They absolutely are. Because I know for a _fact,_ that they are the same nuts you had four months ago when we were in Beirut.” 

“So? Nuts have a long shelf life, and—”

Another pillow, dead center across his cheek. “Seriously, Joe, how many pillows?” Nicky laughed, turning back to face his friend. He saw Joe poised with another one in his hand, the threat clear. 

“Let me go to the market,” Joe said, waving his pillowed hand towards the open window. “I need to stretch my legs, and something smells divine down there.” 

Nicky frowned, his face turning stormy. “No,” he answered simply. 

“Nicky—”

“No, Joe. You shouldn’t go down there,” he said. “Someone could see you.” 

“And?” Joe asked, shrugging his shoulders. “What, do I have bedhead?”

Nicky bit back a comment about how _no,_ Joe never had bedhead. Even if woken up from the dead of sleep to run from drug dealers,his curled hair was still perfectly tousled. “We’re on a job,” Nicky tried to reason. 

“We’re doing recon,” Joe said, waving off his concern. “The client’s here for Andy and Booker. They don’t know me. And besides, this is a potential _client._ Nothing bad’s going to happen.” 

_You don’t know that,_ Nicky wanted to scream. Everything could go wrong, at any given moment. The farther Joe stepped away, the less Nicky could shield him. He was replaceable. Joe was not. 

“I’ll be gone _five minutes,_ if that.” 

_Too long,_ he wanted to argue. “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he said. 

“You’re not my keeper, Nicolò.” 

_I’d like to be._ “Fine,” he replied instead, frowning while his arms crossed. _“Five minutes.”_

Joe beamed and darted out the door. 

He was most certainly not five minutes. But Joe had known he wouldn’t be when he’d left, as did Nicky, as much as he liked to think that he didn’t. 

But as a silent apology, Joe kept to the front part of the market, letting Nicky track his movements as he darted from stall to stall. Nicky even caught him shoot a cheeky wave his way every now and again. There was a small part of him that sat on edge with Joe being in the open - he found himself spending most of his days worrying for Joe and his safety - but most of him was pleased, greedy almost, in the private show Joe had gifted him. 

He loved seeing Joe like this. He was so full of life, so rich and lively. He moved effortlessly between the mass of people, joked with other shoppers, bartered with vendors. It was like staring straight into fire. The flames danced and crackled wildly, the colors bold and bright to keep attention rapt, and the heat was all encompassing. Nicky would happily burn himself to get closer. 

He shivered, as if his body realized how cold it had become without Joe at his side. Nicky ignored it, returning his attention to search for Joe. The barrel of his gun swiveled around quickly, and Nicky felt his heart quicken when he realized Joe had slipped from view. 

His breath caught in his throat, but the worry was immediately tamed when he heard the door open behind him, Joe stomping into the room. Nicky couldn’t help but give him a once over. He was beaming like a radiant sun, as if he’d come home a new man after the quick jaunt in the market. In his arms, he had two overstuffed sacks. 

“How long are you thinking we’ll be here?” Nicky joked, eying the full bags laden in Joe’s arms. 

“I wasn’t sure what you’d want,” Joe shrugged. “So I got a little bit of everything.” Nicky’s heart clenched. 

“I’m not picky,” Nicky replied softly. 

Joe stopped from where he was digging through the groceries, giving Nicky an incredulous look. “You want to run that by me again?” he asked with a smirk. 

Nicky bit his lip to keep from smiling. “I’m not _always_ picky,” he corrected. 

Joe chuckled and shook his head, flopping back down in his seat. “Sure,” he added before making a soft, pleased noise - one that Nicky would be remembering when he was alone, later - as he pulled out a dark fruit. 

Joe held the fruit to his nose and breathed in deeply, his eyes closing as he sighed. Nicky flushed, turning away from the display. He wasn’t sure if he was more glad or upset to have missed Joe’s first bite into the fruit. The sound he made while doing so was more than enough. 

“I like plums,” Joe said, words garbled with a full mouth. “There’s not a lot that can beat a perfectly ripe plum.” 

“Is that so?” Nicky responded dryly, eyes still trained down his scope. 

Joe hummed, and Nicky could hear his lips smacking. Nicky shifted in his seat again, face heating. Now more than ever did he wish he brought his sweatshirt, if only to bury his head and the evidence of his affection in the dark fabric. He darted his eyes back over quickly to catch Joe go in for a second bite. _Have mercy,_ Nicky thought desperately, to anyone that could be listening. 

He tried to focus back on the task at hand. The market was much more crowded now, meaning more places for him to check. He glanced over the small cafe where Andy and Booker would be sitting soon, still clear. A bus had just let out another swarm of tourists, their eyes hungry and their wallets full. _Not for long,_ he chuckled to himself. He could turn his scope in any direction and see someone getting swindled out of their money. Not Joe, though. Joe could talk his way out of anything, if he had to. He wondered if—

“Nicky.” 

Nicky sighed, tearing his gaze away from the market and looked over at Joe. Any scathing comments he had died immediately on his lips. Joe was lounging against the couch, legs sprawled open. One hand was tucked behind his head, matting down his curls as it supported his head, the other holding a half eaten plum. 

All of that was inconsequential, of course. No, out of everything, Nicky’s gaze zeroed in on a droplet of the fruit’s juice that was caught in the corner of Joe’s mouth. He saw Joe’s mouth move, and so did the droplet, falling to rest on Joe’s beard. Nicky’s own mouth turned to ash and his throat parched, desperate only for the taste of that single drop. Nicky wanted to lick it. He wanted to travel the droplet’s path with his own mouth, wanted to chase the taste of it back to Joe. He wanted to—

“Nicky?” 

“What?” Nicky asked slowly, blinking rapidly as his brain tried to catch up with Joe’s words. 

“I asked if you wanted a piece.” He shook the plum in his hand. Nicky wondered if there was juice on Joe’s fingers that he could have as well. 

“Uh,” he said, mind blanking out again. 

“There’s plenty here,” Joe continued, gesturing to the bags on the coffee table in front of him. “Unless you want to stick to your stale nuts,” he chuckled. 

Nicky shook his head, unable to think of anything else to say. He watched Joe carve a slice of his already bitten plum with a pocket knife, then leaning across the table to hand Nicky the fruit. Nicky met him halfway, taking the piece of plum delicately from Joe’s hand. 

He could feel Joe staring at him but Nicky turned back towards the open window quickly, fearing for what Joe might see. He tilted his head back and popped the whole slice in his mouth. Flavor burst across his tongue, and Nicky was almost disappointed, wishing the fruit to be bland enough so he could get the chance to know if Joe left his own taste on the shared fruit. 

Before he could swallow, Joe was shoving another piece of fruit into his hands, giving Nicky a look he couldn’t quite decipher. Nicky nodded gratefully and chowed down. “I’ll give you this one,” Nicky said between chews. “This is better than the nuts.” 

“Do my ears deceive me, or is the proud Nicolò finally admitting defeat?” Joe crooned, chucking the pit cleaning into the garbage can across the room, before cutting into a fresh plum. “This is one for the history books!” 

Nicky rolled his eyes again and chuckled, looking back out into the market. Silence fell between the pair, only broken by the occasional comfortable chatter, one filling in the other on what they’d been up to since they’d last been together. Joe had been traveling with Booker through Spain in search of a rare book. Nicky had been laying in his flat, picturing himself traveling with Joe through Spain in search of a rare book. 

The morning stretched on, and Nicky was starting to regret letting Joe leave to get fruit. Nicky had stopped asking for pieces, if only to relieve himself of the torture of eating Joe’s scraps, or having to see him lick the errant juice from his pocket knife. Still, the sinful noises were enough to keep him distracted and on edge. Nicky found himself tapping the grip of his rifle, reminiscent of how Joe was this morning, and he almost laughed. _How the tables have turned._

He had finally started to calm himself down when all of a sudden, a fleshy piece of fruit was jammed between him and his sight. Nicky startled back in his seat, glaring at Joe, who was waving the chunk of fruit like a prize. “What the hell, Joe?”

“You zoned out, my friend.” He pushed the fruit closer to Nicky’s mouth. “I was saying you need to eat more. Growing boys need their fruits and vegetables.” 

Nicky cast Joe a dirty look. “Joe,” he admonished, turning back to his rifle. Joe didn’t even give him time to get situated before the piece of fruit was back in his face, this time pressing against his lips. It reminded him of the time they were in Venezuela, when Joe had kept prodding him with a stick until Nicky threw mud at him. 

“Eat,” Joe commanded softly, and Nicky shuddered at the tone. His mistake came when he opened his mouth to answer, as Joe took it as an initiative to shove the fruit in his mouth. The slice would no doubt be as delicious as the last one, but Nicky would never know. Instead, all he’d remember about it was the feeling of Joe’s thumb brush against his mouth. 

It was gone as quickly as it came, but the ghost of the finger remained heavy on his lips. Joe might have been talking again, but Nicky tuned him out. Instead, in a rather daring move, he swept his tongue over his bottom lip, searching for anything that remained of Joe. 

_God, Andy was right,_ he thought. He shouldn’t have come so early. He’d just been so desperate to see Joe, that by doing so, had condemned himself to this hell. He didn’t think he could sit through another goddamn plum. Worse, he couldn’t sit through Joe _feeding him_ another goddamn plum. 

The thought of Joe feeding him again crashed through his thoughts, and Nicky felt himself short circuit. “I’ll be right back,” he said with a flummox, practically jumping from his seat. He could hear Joe call out for him, but Nicky ignored it, practically sprinting to the other room. “I just need to use the bathroom,” he called back to Joe, in case the man tried to follow him. 

Nicky scampered into the small bathroom, locking the door behind him. He huffed out a deep sigh of his own, his head thumping against the wooden door. 

_“There’s not a lot that can beat a perfectly ripe plum,”_ Joe had said. 

“I can think of a few things that can,” Nicky whispered deliriously, rubbing his face into his hands. Joe’s mouth while eating said fruit, for one. Or the way his eyes fluttered shut when tasting it. Or the quiet hum of pleasure that followed. 

_“Fuck.”_ Nicky thumped his head harder against the door, his weight shifting between his feet. His skin was itchy and his tongue sat heavy in his mouth. He dragged a hand across his stomach and his body arched under it, urging him to move lower. 

He was hard. How could he not be, from such a display? Despite his better judgement, Nicky trailed a hand down and cupped himself through his pants, his hips bucking under the slight touch, desperately. He bit his lip to keep from whining, wondering what Joe would think of him if he heard him, or if he saw the way Nicky was trying to ride his own hand. 

If Joe hadn’t been Joe, Nicky would go back out there and ask for a quick fuck before the job. Immortal or not, he was still just a man, and even he had desires. He’d lain with many others in the past before, if only to take the edge off. 

When he’d gotten past the initial - _and mostly homicidal_ \- thoughts towards Joe, it had been easy to consider it. Joe was beautiful in every sense of the word. He sucked the air from every room he was in, stealing all attention. His body was firm and his face was soft, and Nicky found it impossible to look away. He’d considered many times asking Joe if he’d be interested, to ‘relieve some unresolved tension’, so to speak. 

But then Joe had opened his mouth, and then he’d smiled, and then he’d laughed, and Nicky realized he’d been fucked, and not in the way that he’d wanted to be. 

Nicky loved him with such a ferocity that he was practically feral for it. _Joe really is going to kill me,_ Nicky thought with a giggle. 

He held himself more firmly, squeezing his erection in his hand, and he gasped as he thought of how Joe’s hand would hold him. A strong grip that could throw a grown man over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. The same grip that was gentle enough to caress a plum without bruising it. 

Nicky jerked again, blood pounding through his veins. He couldn’t do this, he _shouldn’t_ do this. But yet, he moved all the same, his breath quickening and the air warming in the cramped room. Nicky unbuttoned his pants and shoved his hand under his waistband to grab at searing flesh, and—

 _“Yep, Boss, we’re all good here. Whenever you’re ready.”_ Joe’s voice filtered in from the other side of the door. 

_Shit,_ Nicky thought, movements seizing entirely. Ice poured through his veins, as his brain caught up to the implications of Joe talking with Andy on the phone. He cursed again, feet scrambling to the sink, his movements jerky and uncoordinated. 

In a panic, he turned to flush the toilet quickly before starting the sink. He cupped freezing water in his hands and splashed it on his face, sucking in large gulps of air. He could still hear Joe talking with Andy, but it was impossible to focus, a pitched buzzing roaring in his ears, his cock throbbing in his pants. 

Nicky looked up from where he’d bent over the sink, glaring at his flushed expression in the mirror. “Get a hold of yourself,” he chastised. _Pathetic._

He yanked the faucet back off, wiping his hands on the front of his pants harshly, hoping to beat his erection into submission. It didn’t work. He thought, briefly, if Joe would just forget that Nicky was in here. Doubtful. 

Nicky stepped over to the door, but he couldn’t hear Joe anymore. He must have hung up with Andy. Nicky let his head thump against the door a final time. _Time to face the music._

Against his better judgement, he flung the bathroom door open, and headed back towards the living room. 

“All good?” Joe asked with a soft smile, completely oblivious to the breakdown that had taken place not a full ten meters from him. 

Nicky tried to smile as he walked stiffly back to his seat, nodding jerkily at Joe. He sat down gingerly and sucked in a deep breath, trying to slow his racing heart. He was hyper aware of Joe moving around him, quieter this time, his focus shifted to the job at hand. Nicky’s, however, was still shot, and he kept his head tilted towards Joe and his shuffling. 

When he turned his eyes back towards his scope, he froze. There was a small smudge of fruit juice on his sight, from where Joe had shoved a piece of plum in front of his eyes. It distorted the view on his scope, making it seem like he was staring through a kaleidoscope. 

Without a second thought Nicky rubbed a thumb over the glass to swipe up the leftover juice, only to stick the digit into his mouth. The remnants of the plum burst across his tongue and Nicky’s cheeks burned with the wondering if Joe tasted the same as well. 

His vulgar musings were interrupted as Joe broke out into a coughing fit behind him. Nicky turned on instinct, his thumb slipping out of his mouth. Joe was hacking into the curve of his elbow, an open water bottle in his other hand. “Are you alright?” he asked. 

Joe looked at him with wide eyes, his own cheeks flushed - most likely from his harsh coughs. Joe shot him a shaky thumbs up before leaning back on the couch, pinching his nose with his fingers, crossing his legs. “I’m fine, Nicolò,” he sighed, sounding strained. 

“If you’re sure?” he asked. 

Joe waved him off and Nicky shrugged, returning his gaze down his now cleaned weapon. He caught sight of Andy and Booker halfway across the market, and he cursed under his breath. _No more distractions,_ he thought, his vision narrowing in on the two familiar figures. 

Still, he couldn’t help but run his tongue over his lips, chasing the taste of plum. _Joe was right,_ he thought despondently. _It was going to be a very long morning for him._

**Author's Note:**

> This one is for the plums. 
> 
> Let me know what else you'd like to see from this series!  
> There's already a hot&heavy Salzburg one shot that should be up later this week. :)


End file.
